The sky outside is purple and black. The wind has the scent of spring. There is the unmistakeable cool breeze that has the tinge of warmth to it keeps rustling through the pines with the faint whisper of the coming summer. I always feel nostalgic in spring. Spring is new birth, but more than that it represents new life to me in a very real way. Spring is the strangest thing that I have ever experienced in my twenty some years on earth. Growing up in the tropics meant that I never got to see the extreme season changes that Canada has. Winter was a shock to be sure, but an expected one. It shoved me out of my comfort zone and slapped me in the face with all the newness and foreign experiences. No more shorts, no more flip flops, no more running outside barefoot. Hello frozen car engines and twelve layers of clothing, hello frostbite and burning breaths, hello sunshine that was colder than any cold pack I had experinced. Hello new world.
Spring was different though. Spring tempted me with familair feelings, but just as quickly ripped them away. The breeze had a touch of warmth to it, but if I stepped outside barefoot the frozen earth would bite and snap at my feet. Things began to get green, but there was no painfree swimming in the lakes. I could almost pretend when I looked outside that I was home, the trees began to bud and the grass began to grow, but when I stepped outside the air was full of strange smells and the air still stung going down my throat. Spring was a change and a whirlwind I could not adapt to. Winter stayed the same, day after day, month after month. I could count on its harshness. Spring was a daily change. You would think that growing up between thirty some houses would have prepared me for the swift deterioration of the world around me. It didn’t. I woke up every morning feeling like a stranger in a new country. Every time I inhaled I was suprised by some new smell or texture in the air.
This is my third or fourth spring to live through. But it catches me off guard still. The memories of those first days where I feared to open my eyes for all the uncontrollable change around me still flood through my mind when the spring air hits my lungs. I still fight back panic at the seeming crisis the world around me goes into. The snow melting away, plants fighting for life in the still cold air.
I live with abandon and without control. I live in a world I cannot understand and cannot predict. I prefer knowing when change is coming, I like predicting that when the plane lands I will be in a new country with a new climate and new people. My heart races when I open my window of the same house only to find the world around me has run away with itself and is changing. That is change I cannot predict or control. I like living freely, it scares me when the world lives with abandon.